


The Prude

by zombified419



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Avenger Bucky, Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Offers Comfort, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Humor, Hurt Steve Rogers, M/M, NSFW, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Pre-Serum Steve Bashing, Romance, Self-Loathing, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Stucky - Freeform, Tony Stark is kind of a jerk, body image issues, lots of mutual pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:09:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7078261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombified419/pseuds/zombified419
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony teases Steve a little too much about being self conscious and calls him a prude; when Steve asks Bucky if he agrees, all he can do is elegantly put his foot in his mouth. Steve can sure be stubborn as hell and sets out to prove to Bucky exactly how much of a prude he isn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Prude

* * *

Bucky felt like, sometimes, the others could be a little hard on Steve. In their defense, though, Steve made it pretty easy to be a target. He always had, back when they were brats, and it seemed that now that he had the big ol' body to back it up, Steve made more of an effort. Bucky would always have his back, whether it was some idiot that was picking on a lady on the subway or a rogue HYDRA agent or even the other Avengers. 

Didn't mean he wouldn't join in on the fun from time to time, though. 

"Seriously." It was Tony who started it (which it usually was anyway) first. "I walked in to the showers looking for Birdie and found our Golden Boy here in nothin' but a towel and he _squeaked_ at me!" 

Bucky bit his bottom lip to stop from grinning when Steve blushed from the collar of his shirt to the roots of his cornsilk hair. It really was such a good look on him that Bucky couldn't help but be distracted for a moment. 

"I didn't - " Steve's feeble attempt at defending himself was over shadowed by Clint's laugh and Natasha's snort of amusement. 

"He _squeaked?!"_ Barton demanded, practically choking on his spit in his damned excitement. 

Tony nodded with far too much exuberance and glee. "Oh yeah, man. Like a dainty little mousey." 

Steve's expression turned from embarrassed to thunderous in a second flat. Bucky knew that look - knew that Steve was about to square his jaw and pull out his Captain America voice, which actually _did_ work now that he wasn't a scrawny little stick. 

"Tony," Steve ventured, his tone dark and his voice deep as he did exactly what Bucky had predicted. Bucky stole a glance at Natasha across from him; she just caught his eye and gave a very minute shrug. She wanted to see what happened too, he supposed. 

Bucky knew that if things got too heated, he'd have Steve's back, Tony fucking Stark or not. Even if Stark _had_ done some serious upgrades on his toy soldier of an arm (Stark's words) _and_ even built a brand new one right out of vibranium, Steve had Bucky's loyalties. 

Even if he needed to learn to laugh at himself, a little. Sometimes. 

This seemed to be one of those times where Bucky Barnes was Coming to the Rescue. Steve's blue _(blue)_ eyes were verging more on the colour of the ocean after a violent storm rocked it and his pupils were blown wide. Bucky kind of wished he was sitting next to Steve instead of Tony, honestly. Not that he expected bloodshed, but Steve wasn't having what Tony was serving - _at all._

"A _mousey,_ Stark?" Steve asked, his tone not at all matching the murder in his eyes. It was almost like watching a disaster in slow motion. Tony, for all his ego and lack of self-preservation, just kept on grinning. _"Really?"_

Bucky noticed Clint's laugher die; he subtly scooted his chair a little closer to Natasha. Bucky hid his grin behind his coffee mug. 

"Yup!" Tony continued, grinning like the maniac he usually portrayed. "It was adorable, Cap, seriously! Reminded me of the war, back before dear old daddy fixed your spangly outfit." 

Bucky worked to swallow his next sip of coffee. This was starting to get a little too personal. 

"When you worked with the USO girls and punched Hitler a few times," Tony added like Steve didn't know what he meant, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. Bucky _really_ didn't want to be sharing a table with the man at that particular moment. 

Steve accented his anger by rising swiftly from his seat at the head of the table, making Tony and Clint flinch. "Sure it's got nothing to do with anything else?" 

Oh, _no._ Bucky opened his mouth but was cut off by Tony again: "If you're referring to before, could be." Tony's quip made Steve's fists clench. "I'm sure you were even more adorable - actually, we have first-hand knowledge right here!" 

Bucky tried not to spill any of his coffee when Tony suddenly clasped his shoulder. "Buckaroo, was Little Steve _more_ or _less_ adorable than Big Steve?" 

Bucky blinked, his mind drifting through his recovered memories, picking out the significant ones. Steve, nearly a head shorter than Bucky, but Bucky didn't mind because he could casually throw an arm around his shoulder without raising suspicion; his shoulders, literally the polar opposite of what they are now, thin and delicate; his chest nearly as frail from sick and the two of them not ever having enough money to eat more than once a day. Steve, who wouldn't ever back down from a fight, but wouldn't let Bucky help dress any wounds that involved him taking off his shirt. Bucky knew, of course, that he _was_ embarrassed about how small he was, and only if they had to huddle under a thin sheet for warmth would Bucky really know exactly _how_ embarrassed Steve actually was. 

Bucky must've missed his opportunity, too lost in his head, that when Natasha cleared her throat pointedly all he could answer with was: "Uh." 

Damn; and Bucky used to be _so good_ at talkin', too. 

Steve must have taken his silence and elegant answer as an affirmative to whatever string Tony was tugging at, because he gave Bucky his most wounded expression before it shuttered back to barely concealed anger and turned away from the table. Tony sighed loudly. 

"Oh, come _back,"_ he groused, calling after Steve's retreating back. "I'm just yankin' your leg! You should understand that reference!" When Steve just stared pointedly at the elevator doors, Tony rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. "Fine; be a _prude."_

The flinch was so small that Bucky doubted anyone but him would have seen it. Maybe Natasha, if she'd been looking, but she wasn't, and Bucky had a clear view of his best friend as he stalked into the elevator and kept his eyes down as the doors closed. 

Tony just shrugged and took up his cup. "Whatever; let him stew for a while, I guess." 

Bucky felt himself sigh as he still stared at where Steve had been, looking more forlorn than he'd seen him when Bucky had trouble remembering things. He still did, from time to time, but Steve never looked quite as downtrodden anymore because of it. 

Natasha moved just so to catch Bucky's eye and quirked an eyebrow at him. Bucky thinned his lips. "You went a little too far there, Stark." 

Tony huffed beside him and set his mug down. "Please; he's got thicker skin than _that."_

"Does he?" Natasha prompted, tilting her head slightly. "He's only been here for a few years. He's only been big - " 

" - for 'bout five years," Bucky finished, drawing both Clint and Tony's attention in surprise. "He never was okay before, really, bein' sick an' all so much." That seemed to drive the point home. Tony shuffled beside him slightly. 

"Well, like he has a need to be _now,"_ Tony defended. "I mean, he's seen himself, right? He could bench press all of us together with a one-handed push-up and probably recite the National Anthem or something." 

That earned a snort from Clint, drawing the slightly too quiet man into the conversation. "Yeah, but he was tiny his whole life. Might still take some getting used to." 

Bucky nodded. Natasha blinked lazily, like a cat, but her eyes were sharp on him when she spoke: "Seems like he may need some insight, too." 

Bucky swallowed down the rest of his cup in a quick gulp and nodded again. "Took the words right outta my mouth, Nat. I'm on it." 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()() 

Bucky went to the floor he and Steve shared after missions before heading back to Brooklyn. They'd both not wanted to impose on Tony more than needed, but a place to unwind for a bit before heading back out into the public seemed like just the right amount of imposition. That, and whenever Tony got into a snarky mood and Steve got a little too stubborn, things ended roughly. Sort of like the disaster Bucky was trying to perform damage control on. 

The living area of the flat was quiet, all the lights but the clock under the TV off. Bucky shucked off his boots and left them by the door next to Steve's running sneakers. At least he was there, giving Bucky a little relief. It wasn't unheard of for Steve to take off for a run after a row with Stark. 

Bucky checked their shared kitchen - empty - the hall bathroom - also empty - and his room - but Steve wasn't there. He looked over to see the door to the room Steve usually slept in closed. He swallowed and ambled up to it. 

"Hey, Stevie," Bucky called, rapping the knuckles of his metal hand on the frame. "You in there?" 

Bucky wasn't surprised to be answered by silence, so he gave his pal a few minutes and turned back to their kitchen for a sandwich. "Making food - want anything?" 

Bucky made quite a bit of noise in the kitchen purposefully, attempting to draw Steve somewhat on his own. They'd all been starved when they made it to the communal floor, chugging coffee while they waited for whatever takeout JARVIS had ordered them to arrive. Unfortunately, ditching the team meant ditching all that precooked food, leaving two super soldiers to fend for themselves and three regular people to eat their share (two-thirds, for the record; Bucky was a little mournful.) 

Bucky forced himself to not react when he heard Steve's door slide open over carpet, busying himself with the Scooby-Doo-sized sandwich he was making. A stool to the bar drug across the tile with barely any noise and Steve sat down just as quietly. Bucky hummed to himself. 

Finally he turned and slid the first of the two sandwiches to Steve, whose head was more or less banging against the marble. 

"Hey now," Bucky chuckled, working his hand under Steve's forehead to stop the assault. "What's that gonna accomplish?" 

Steve sighed, the breath warm and ghosting over Bucky's hand. "I acted like a fool, letting somethin' so small get me all riled up." 

Bucky shrugged and lifted lightly on Steve's face until the man moved on his own. His eyes were so wide and lost that Bucky wanted to kiss his stupid face. 

Except, _no._

"What's today?" He asked randomly. Steve furrowed his brow. 

"Uh, Thursday, I think?" 

"Just another Thursday with you, punk," Bucky answered with a grin. Steve pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose, his shoulders slumped forward in an unconscious attempt at making himself seem smaller. It never worked with Bucky, but spoke volumes to how Steve really felt. 

"You're a jerk," he mumbled. Bucky snorted and turned back to finishing his meal. 

"Would a jerk make you a delicious sandwich from the bottom of his heart?" Bucky huffed, grinning so hard he was glad Steve couldn't see him. 

"Mmhm," Steve said around a mouthful of said sandwich. "You'd prolly jus' eat it yourself." 

Bucky turned, his grin tamed, as he leaned against the counter and took a bite himself. "Caught me." 

They ate quickly and quietly. As Bucky trashed their napkins and put away the cold cuts and lettuce and cheese, Steve cleared his throat. "Ah, Buck?" 

"Yup?" 

"Do you, ah, do you..." Steve trailed off, drawing Bucky's full attention. He was blushing again, his face so bright that Bucky was concerned if the rest of his body had any blood in it. "Do you - " 

_"Steve,"_ Bucky said sternly. It stopped Steve's stammering (that reminded Bucky so much of their old selves) and made him meet his gaze. 

"Do you agree with them, with Tony?" Steve asked quietly. His eyes were wide again and pulling on Bucky's heartstrings so much that Bucky wanted to punch Stark himself for even bringing it up and for Bucky never getting a proper chance to defend Steve. 

"'Course not, pal," Bucky said with a small smile. "So what if ya weren't expecting Stark to walk up on ya naked; I'da prolly squeaked, too." 

Steve murmured something close to _Didn't squeak_ but Bucky didn't comment on it. Instead, he said louder: "No, do you think I'm a prude?" 

Bucky blinked, stunned to silence for the second time that night. Steve wore the kicked puppy look too well, his brows drawing up tight over his bright eyes and his lower lip getting worked over by his teeth. 

Again, Bucky missed his window, too preoccupied with watching Steve's straight white teeth nibble at his suddenly too pink and full lips to answer with anything more than: "Uh." 

Steve sighed, his shoulders slumping even _further,_ before he pushed himself away from the bar with a mighty effort. Bucky scrambled. 

"Wait, Steve! I - " 

"Night, Buck." Steve answered before his door shut softly. 

Bucky swallowed his botched apology and groaned, knowing that dejected tone and those hurt eyes would haunt him all night. 

* * *


	2. Maybe a Prude?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky may just be losing his mind.

* * *

Bucky had been right - he didn't catch a wink of sleep worrying about the man on the other side of the wall. He tossed and turned, Steve's hurt expression always armed and waiting for his viewing pleasure when he did close his eyes. It was a downright shame that Bucky couldn't assuage his best friend or his own foolishness. If only he had the balls to tell Steve how he really felt, how he didn't care if all their teammates wanted to do was mock him day in and day out, Bucky would always be by his side. 

That was it, though, the honest truth. 

Bucky would be there, 'til the end of their line, but as a friend. Bucky cared too much about Steve to lose him over his own awkward feelings, even if he might sometimes possibly humour himself with wild thoughts like Steve returning his feelings and them running off into a sunset or whatever. That's what people did nowadays, right? Make out under stars and have picnics; that sounded right. 

Christ, he was such a fucking sap. 

A sap and a coward, because Bucky wouldn't lose Steve for anything, but he wasn't going to tell him that, exactly, or why. It was heavily implied, and Natasha had even ventured to ask him. Maybe she could help him with this, too. 

Maybe. 

Bucky gave up on sleep around five in the morning. He waited until he heard Steve leave for his run before creeping out, not ready to face his hurting friend just yet. Once the coffee maker was running, Bucky figured a shower wouldn't hurt while he waited for the inevitable cold shoulder he'd get when Steve came in. 

Bucky fixed his coffee with too much sugar and settled in with the paper at the kitchen bar. He flipped through the classifieds, looking for something antique (it really hurt to admit) from the forties he could give Steve as an unspoken apology; maybe make Stark buy it, too, for good measure. 

He was fully immersed in the goings on of the sports columns when Steve came in. Bucky made himself relax, not looking up from the print, even when he felt Steve only a few feet away. 

"Coffee's ready, pal," Bucky offered, taking a sip of his for emphasis. 

Steve hummed and toed his sneakers off. He walked back to the door and left them there before coming in. 

"Goin' for a shower," he said as way of answer, to which Bucky just nodded. 

When the door shut behind him, Bucky sighed. Of course he couldn't get off the hook so easy. Steve didn't take too long in the shower usually, so Bucky figured he had enough time to get started on breakfast for the two of them. Whoever put the paper outside of their door and stocked their fridge before they came back from a mission was a godsend, Bucky decided as he pulled out a carton of eggs and a package of bacon. He started the bacon first while he whisked a few eggs; Steve always likes his omelettes, and it wasn't something he cooked often. 

Bucky greased up a pan after the bacon was finished, nice and crispy, before pouring the first mixture into the pan and popping a set of bread into the toaster. He'd make Steve's first, something he realized he always did unconsciously. Probably something of a habit left over from before. 

As he flipped and then plated the first bacon and cheese omelette, the bathroom door opened. Bucky poured the rest of the eggs into the pan and turned to butter the toast that popped up. 

"Made a bacon and cheese omelette for ya, Stevie, if you wanna come get it," Bucky called, his back to the shuffling noises Steve made as he walked over carpet. Bucky listened for a reply, and when he didn't get one, expected the door to Steve's room to close. Instead, the sounds of bare feet on tile made Bucky turn and drop the knife he was using to butter Steve's toast. 

Steve stood in the kitchen fucking _naked._ His towel was casually strewn across his shoulders, one side working over his hair as Steve dried it and walked. Bucky couldn't breathe; he knew he was being so obvious, raking his eyes from his best friend's toes to his ridiculous cock, which even flaccid, looked like a model for a dildo. He had to blink and advert his gaze _somewhere else, please,_ because he could feel himself getting half-hard just from the sight. The dip in Steve's narrow hips was equally distracting, but didn't hold Bucky's attention for long when there was still so much to look at. Broad shoulders taunt with muscle, bunching and pulling as Steve angled his head forward to dry the hair on his neck. His pecs were still glistening from the water of his shower and a stray drop slid from his clavicle to tease between his defined _(so defined)_ abdominal muscles. Bucky felt his heart stutter and his breath catch. 

Just. Remember. To. _Breathe._

Steve was looking at him, now, his hair towel dried and sticking up wildly like one of Bucky's fantasies where he dedicated a lot of time to kissing Steve crazy and messing up his perfect hair. There was a glint in his eyes that made Bucky swallow thickly. 

"That for me?" Steve asked, his voice totally normal, like him walking around the flat _driving Bucky insane_ was normal. It was, except Steve wasn't ever _naked_ and Bucky was usually much, much better at hiding it. 

"What?" Bucky croaked and immediately cleared his throat. There was a ghost of a smirk on Steve's lips that was making Bucky go weak in the knees. 

"That omelette," Steve continued. He took a step forward, presumably to grab the plate. Bucky, being the totally chill guy he usually was, stumbled back against the counter and hissed when the edge slammed against his spine. Steve's brows furrowed in concern. 

"Buck, you okay?" He asked and took another step forward, but Bucky had nowhere else to scramble away to. Steve stood maybe three feet away and paused, looking down. He dropped to a knee and Bucky felt like he might literally come in his sweats when Steve looked up at him. "You dropped this." 

Steve held up the dirty butter knife; Bucky, still somewhere in the middle of shock and awe and busy committing this fantastic scene to memory, slowly took the proffered utensil and offered a crooked smile in return. 

"Thanks, Stevie," he muttered. Steve smiled back, his usually bright smile lighting up his face. Oh, Bucky had always known he was too far gone on his best friend, but there was something about that expression that always made the reality slide home a little more each time. "I'm good." 

"Good," Steve answered. He rose to his feet, making Bucky tilt his head back a bit to keep eye contact. Steve stood so close that Bucky could feel his body heat. "That omelette sure smells good." 

"Great," Bucky grinned. _Be cool, man._ "It's all for you." 

Steve's gaze flicked from the plate behind Bucky to his eyes, that same smirk from before on his pink lips. "Looks like you have somethin' else for me, too." 

_Fuck, he knows._ Bucky felt his stomach drop and his heart seize. He'd hoped his sweats were baggy enough to hide his obvious arousal, but maybe he wasn't as safe as he'd thought. Oh he was screwed, _so_ screwed. Steve was gonna push him away, maybe kick his ass too, and Bucky would totally let him. Then he'd lose him forever. _Fuck,_

"Uh." Was all Bucky managed before Steve plucked the now soggy toast from between his flesh fingers, damp from the melting butter he'd totally forgotten about when he saw Steve naked. Hell, there's a good chance he would have forgotten his own name had Steve not been using it. 

Steve took a bite of the toast and winked at Bucky. "Tastes good, Buck. Just the way I like it." Then, he winked. _Steven Grant Rogers winked at him._ Actually winked, like, _flirtatiously._

Christ. 

What day was today? Who was the President? Was he stuck in some weirdly erotic dream? 

Did it even fucking _matter?_

The smell of burning eggs pulled Bucky back to the present, to Steve sitting next to where Bucky's coffee still sat and idly looking over at the still open paper. His towel was still across his naked shoulders, and Bucky was achingly hard. 

"There's a new art exhibit coming up on Monday," Steve said around a mouthful of egg and bacon. He grabbed Bucky's coffee and took a sip. "Wanna go?" 

"Sure," Bucky breathed, grabbing the counter to keep from sliding down it. 

Steve looked at the stove where smoke was slowly rising. "I think you're burnin' something, Buck." 

"Sure," Bucky agreed. He just reached over and turned off the burner, tossing the knife he clutched in his metal hand into the trash. Bucky knew without looking that it was ruined by the strength in his grip. 

That smirk was back again, Steve's eyes shining as he watched Bucky drift from the kitchen to the hall. "Goin' for a shower, Buck?" 

"Sure," Bucky answered, keeping his eyes forward as he pulled his shirt off over his head and vaguely tossed it in the direction of his open door. 

"I hope there's still some water left," Steve's voice called. "I really took my time in there earlier." 

"Sure," Bucky whimpered, shutting the door behind him and letting out a shaky breath. He hesitated only a moment before locking it, briefly entertaining the idea that Steve might follow him. 

Bucky shook his head and stared at his reflection, ashamed by how obviously aroused he looked and the knowledge that Steve saw the same expression, too. He swallowed thickly. 

Bucky was painfully hard and _had_ to be dreaming. But he wasn't. He wasn't that lucky, no - instead, he was going to take a second shower and jerk himself off to the image of his best friend kneeling in front of him entirely naked and not be ashamed. _Try_ not to be ashamed. 

Bucky bit into a washcloth as he came, wondering if Steve knew what he was doing. 

* * *

Of course Steve knew what he was doing; Bucky wanted to scream. 

He hadn't seen Steve again after his shower, but the kitchen was cleaned and it seemed like Bucky by alone, which was fine. Maybe Natasha would be up to sparing, and Bucky could really use the distraction. 

Bucky texted her and waited by the entrance to the training room. It sounded like there was someone already in there, and when Bucky peeked around the glass he saw Steve making short work of the punching bag. The image made Bucky swallow sharply - the image of Steve totally nude was still erotically fresh in his mind, and seeing Steve working out without a shirt on was making Bucky question all of his morals. Steve always wore a shirt when he worked out, be it running or sparing or just punching a sack of sand. 

A hand on Bucky's shoulder made him jump. 

"Easy, soldier," Natasha said, amusement clear in her voice. Bucky breathed out a sigh, knowing she'd caught in ogling Steve. "Got something on your mind?" 

"You could say that," he murmured, unconsciously looking back at his best friend. 

Natasha's expression softened. "He okay?" 

Bucky shrugged. "Maybe? He wasn't last night, and I put my foot in my mouth pretty spectacularly, but this morning he was - " _Fueling every single one of my fantasies for the next year._ "- different." 

He watched Natasha shift her weight to her other foot. "What happened?" 

"Just," Bucky began, looking around for a moment. Steve was on the other side of a wall, so he doubted his super hearing would kick in, but Bucky didn't want _anyone_ to hear him. "Just...he's more upset about the prude thing than anything, I think, 'cause he asked me what I thought last night." 

"Uh?" Natasha offered kindly, mimicking Bucky's amazing fail in front of all of them the night before. 

_"Yeah,"_ he groaned and rolled his eyes. "Then he went to bed, an' I couldn't sleep a wink thinkin' about how upset he was. I - " 

"You love him," Natasha interrupted, making Bucky spin to look at her with murder in his eyes. If Stevie heard - 

"He didn't," Natasha answered flippantly; had he said that aloud? 

"Yeah, Barnes," she continued. "You did. I'm more interested in why you're avoiding him." 

Bucky felt heat steal up his neck. Natasha was the only other person he got on well with, well enough to consider her a close friend, other than Sam and Steve. The rest were his teammates, but he knew he was more of an outsider than friend at best to a few of the others, and he couldn't blame them. Natasha accepted him with very little resentment, and it was nice to have her views on things. 

Sometimes, thought, he absolutely hated how right she was. 

"He, uh, must be wanting to prove himself," Bucky murmured, looking cautiously back at Steve through the glass. "He walked around earlier completely...well, totally _naked_ and I couldn't keep my eyes offa him. Even had to take another shower to calm down." 

Natasha snorted, covering her mouth elegantly with her hands. Bucky frowned. "You better not laugh at me." 

"I won't, I'm not," she said, her smiled stretching. "Sounds like he's more concerned with you thinking he's a prude more than anyone else. Maybe you should talk to him." 

"And say what?" Bucky hissed. "'Hey Stevie, I don't think you're a prude. In fact, I'd really like to get a mouthful of that cock. Would you mind face fucking me, too, Stevie?'" 

"Bucky?" Bucky's stomach dropped, his eyes widening. Natasha bit her bottom lip to stop from smiling so wide. 

_"Did he hear me?"_ Bucky whispered, looking through the glass and offering a wave. Steve smiled back and started over. 

"I doubt he heard more than his name," she answered quietly. "Best be a good boy, Barnes." 

"Bucky," Steve said with a smile, trotting up from around the partition they'd been standing behind. The lights of the training room shined off of the sweat on his chest, and Bucky really _did_ have to be a good boy. Steve looked down slightly. "Hey, Natasha." 

"Hey there, Steve," she answered, folding her arms across her stomach. "Feeling better?" 

Steve scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, his smile matching the bashful gesture. "Yeah, I am. Sorry you had to see that; I kinda overreacted. Must be left over from before everything, ya know?" 

"Yeah," Natasha offered, patting his arm. "I bet Barnes here would be happy to help you blow off some steam." Bucky snapped his eyes to her, willing her to keep her mouth shut. Instead, she just smiled at him. "He's looking for a sparing partner; I've got to report to Fury or I'd stay." 

Oh, Natasha was going to regret this. 

"Yeah?" Steve asked, perking up considerably. "I'm up for it if you are, Buck." 

Bucky, being the nice and masochistic guy he was, offered up his own smile. "'Course, Stevie." 

"Awesome!" His eagerness made Bucky's heart hurt. "I'll pull out a few extra mats." 

When Steve walked away, Bucky glared at Natasha. "You're gonna regret this." 

"I doubt that," she answered with a smirk. "Might end up owing me a favour. Play nice, soldier." 

"Regret!" Bucky hissed. "Heavy and deep-seeded; I'll make sure of it." 

Natasha just flipped him the middle finger as she walked. Bucky cursed her under his breath and he walked onto the mats to begin his stretches. Steve sat a few feet from him and mirrored his movements until they were both ready. 

"Boxing?" Bucky offered, pulling a glove over his metal hand. 

"How 'bout mixed?" Steve offered, and Bucky shrugged. Makes sense, after he spent so much time punching a sack. 

Bucky realized too late that it was him that would suffer from instant regret. Steve absolutely knew what he was doing, knew what he did earlier that morning and knew what he was doing to Bucky now, too. Not only was he shirtless, which seriously distracted Bucky when they grappled, but he wasn't wearing anything beneath his track shorts. Nothing, not even a jock strap. 

The first flash Bucky got distracted him from blocking the kick accompanying it. Steve offered to help him up, but Bucky shook his head and pushed himself up to mentally psych himself up for more. The next one he was better prepared for, catching Steve's ankle in his hand to stop his shorts from sliding any further up his thighs. It was a tragic play; Steve used the leverage of Bucky's hand holding his ankle to spin him around as if Steve were readying himself for another kick. Just as Bucky let go to block, Steve dropped to the mats and wrapped his legs around Bucky's neck in an almost perfect mimic of one of Natasha's signature moves, his ankles locked and his knees squeezing Bucky's shoulders. Bucky swallowed; in order to keep his eyes on Steve's face, that meant looking _down,_ and looking _down_ meant he caught another eyeful of Steve. 

And was far too distracted to brace himself before he was slammed to the ground. 

Bucky groaned, his right arm trapped awkwardly beneath him, Steve's thighs still around his neck. He frowned and tried to roll away; Steve let him go. 

"You okay, Bucky?" Steve asked, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Bucky nodded into the mat. 

"Yup!" He answered, rotating his jaw. "I'mma head up, tho'. More tired than I thought if you're kicking my ass so easy." 

"Did you have a bad night?" Bucky looked at his friend, who looked so genuinely concerned that Bucky felt guilty as hell, 

"Little bit," Bucky said. He sat up and rubbed his neck. "Lot on my mind." 

Steve nodded, his long legs resting between them. "I understand," he began. Then, softer: "You could always bother me with it, ya know?" 

Bucky smiled when his heart slowed. "I know, pal. Don't think you wanna know exactly how fucked up I am; you might night wanna stick around." 

"I always will, Buck," Steve said vehemently. "Don't doubt that." 

Bucky sighed and pushed himself up from the mat, offering a hand to Steve as he went. "I'd rather not talk here, if that's alright?" 

Steve nodded and took Bucky's hand. "Wanna head up?" 

"Yeah," Bucky said, regretfully dropping Steve's hand. "I'll wait while you get your stuff." 

Steve nodded again and jogged over to where his gym bag lay, Bucky watching him as he went with a sigh. Maybe it was finally time to have that conversation, especially if Steve walking around naked was going to become a habit. If he made him uncomfortable, then Bucky could just move out. It would suck, but Stark had been bugging him to run a few more tests on his arm near the six month mark anyway. 

If it came down to it, Bucky would make sure Natasha wouldn't have a moment's peace with him around. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left! Don't forget to hit me up on tumblr (same handle)! :) And just let me know what you thought too!!


	3. Fucking Ridiculous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You mean you aren’t _intentionally_ walkin’ outta the shower naked, like that’s every day?” Bucky said. A flush dusted up Steve’s cheeks. “You mean you didn’t _intentionally_ not wear a shirt while you grappled me? Didn’t _intentionally_ forget your fuckin’ jockstrap?”
> 
>  
> 
> Steve looked away, his eyes lowered. “Buck, I wasn’t - ”
> 
>  
> 
> “Tryin’ to make me uncomfortable?” Bucky scoffed. “Too fuckin’ late, pal. I’m so uncomfortable it’s painful.”
> 
>  
> 
> Steve flicked his eyes to Bucky; the guilt was palpable. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I just - I know I’m awkward about myself, _still,_ and I just didn’t want you to think any less of me. I thought, I thought if I,” he took a breath. “If I could show _you,_ get you to believe, maybe I could believe myself.”
> 
>  
> 
> Bucky sighed, feeling a smile tug his lips. “Oh Steve, you’re so ridiculous.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple reasons why this took so long. First - I was stupid busy for the last month. Second - I knew that this chapter, the way I built it up, would be smut. (See new tags? ;)) And it take me waaaay too long to write that. I'm not super good at it, so I'm always second guessing myself. I probably wrote and rewrote this chapter too many times. Also, I'm so sorry that the second chapter was so full of typos and shit. I'm fix it soon. Thank you all for sticking it out, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Bucky sighed as he took the elevator back up with Steve at his side, gym bag swinging between them. Steve hummed some off-handed tune, totally oblivious to Bucky’s inner turmoil. Per usual, if Bucky were honest. 

Once they reached their shared floor of the Tower, Bucky broke away from Steve. “You wanna shower, or somethin’?” 

Steve shook his head, dropping his bag right in the doorway of his room. “Nah, it can wait.” He knelt and pulled out a towel to wipe his face down with before shoving it back in and replacing it with a clean shirt. Bucky tried desperately not to mourn the loss of all that skin, but he was only human. 

“So what’s on your mind, Buck?” Steve asked, crossing over to the kitchen and fishing around in the fridge. Bucky was reminded of how hungry he was, after he had to skip his omelette thanks to the man standing with his back to him. Fucking ridiculous. 

Bucky must have been glaring at Steve’s back because when he turned, his eyebrows climbed to his hairline. “Woah, Buck. That bad?” 

Bucky swallowed, coaxing his face to abandon the murder he felt. “Yeah, Stevie, _that bad.”_

Steve frowned and took out two bottles of water. “Well, I’m listening.” He slid one bottle across the kitchen bar in invitation. “If you still wanna tell me.” 

Bucky looked at the bottle of water, then the seat at the bar in front of it. It was the same seat Steve had sat in, naked, just, like, _hours_ before. Bucky felt his anxiety building. Steve was quiet except for the _crack_ of the seal of the water bottle, and when Bucky looked at him the column of his long neck was working down the water. Bucky tracked the motion of Steve’s adam’s apple - up, down, up, down - with each gulp until something finally _snapped._

“It’s _you,_ you fuckin’ asshole!” Bucky exploded, his voice bouncing off their kitchen walls. Steve startled, water dribbling down his chin; he quickly covered his mouth with his free hand and stared at Bucky with wide eyes. 

“Huh?” 

Smooth, Rogers. 

“Don’t _‘Huh?’_ me, you goddamn prick,” Bucky growled. Steve’s brow furrowed in such obvious confusion that Bucky would have taken pity on him were the confusion about anything else. _Literally anything else._ “You fuckin’ _know.”_

Steve slowly shook his head, his eyes wide and never leaving Bucky. “You’re gonna hafta help me, pal. I really don’t - ” 

_“Goddammit!”_ Bucky shouted, bringing both hands up to pull at his hair. He was frustrated in every sense, and Steve seemed so genuine. Like he really _didn’t_ know, but he had to be lying because Steve could be such a shit sometimes. He honestly couldn't keep a straight face if he _was_ lying, because Steve couldn’t lie for shit, either. Dammit. 

Bucky looked back at Steve, really _looked_ at his wide blue eyes, and let all of his frustration leave him in a quiet breath. 

“Nothin’, Stevie,” Bucky murmured, his chin dropping practically to his chest. That brought his eyes to the floor, where there was still a smear of butter from where he’d dropped his butter knife when Steve walked out naked - nope. Stop it. 

“It’s all fine,” Bucky continued. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’mma head to the shower.” 

“Bucky?” Steve asked, but Bucky just shook his head and ditched the kitchen altogether, taking the long way to the hall to avoid getting too close to Steve. “Bucky, would ya stop for a second?” 

Bucky kept walking and shook his head. “That’ll be a no-go, Stevie, sorry.” 

Bucky felt pressure on his left wrist and stopped. He could break out of the hold if he wanted to, Captain America grip or not, but he didn’t want to risk hurting Steve. He never wanted to do that. So he looked. 

Steve was frowning, his eyes still so blue and pleading, but there was something else there, too. “Don’t go.” 

Bucky shrugged. “Okay?” 

“If I let go, you won’t take off?” Steve ventured. 

“Well - ” 

_“Promise_ you won’t take off?” Steve amended. Bucky sighed. 

“Fine; I promise.” 

Steve searched his face for a moment before he reluctantly released Bucky, practically finger by finger. Bucky breathed slowly, attempting to keep his panic at bay. Steve was so close he could still smell the tinges of sweat and apples, and Bucky wanted nothing more than to swipe his tongue along Steve’s jaw for a taste. 

No. 

_Stop it._

“So what was that about, Buck?” Steve asked, drawing Bucky’s gaze back to his face after Bucky had resolutely looked at their boring cabinets to keep his traitorous mind in check. 

Bucky sighed and wandered back to where there was a sweating bottle of water waiting for him on the kitchen bar. That’s about what he felt like - sweaty, because he knew that if Steve asked the right questions he’d be giving the right answers. 

“Nothin’, Steve, like I said,” Bucky answered as he cracked open his own water. “Twice.” 

“Too bad I didn’t believe you,” Steve challenged, and Bucky knew that voice. It was Steve’s Stubborn Tone, the ‘I’m gonna get what I want even if I have to beat it outta you’ voice. Bucky knew it well; hell, he’d had to back it up with his own fists on more than one occasion. _“Twice.”_

Bucky groaned. He could play this game. Maybe. “C’mon, Stevie. I’m just sore ya beat me and hungry as hell. Skipped breakfast, remember?” Bucky patted his stomach for emphasis. Steve’s gaze never wavered. 

“That was weird, too,” Steve answered. Bucky wanted to curse himself; he’d walked right into _that_ trap. “What was that about?” 

Bucky decided to go the elegant route - he just shrugged and took a swig of his water. “Dunno whatcha mean.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Buck, _seriously._ Are you really gonna play that game? With me?” 

The hurt was obvious but it was a trap Bucky couldn’t fall into for a second time. “I’m not playin’ no games, Steve. I’m hungry and sore, and not feelin’ too hot about either parts. So let me have a Snickers or whatever and I’ll be right as rain, champ. Promise.” Bucky offered up his best smile, the one that got him simultaneously into and outta trouble countless times. 

Too bad Steve was immune. He had to be, if his narrowed eyes were anything to go by. Dammit. 

“Bucky,” Steve said with a sigh. “If you really don’t wanna tell me, I’m not gonna make you. Go ahead and take your shower; I’ll see how Sam’s doing.” 

Bucky bit his lip as he watched Steve chug the rest of his water and refill it from the fridge. Water from the fridge was one of Bucky’s favorite things about the future. Before Steve could get too far, Bucky stepped into his space and looked up at him. Steve stopped immediately, only really a foot or so away from Bucky, having to look down to hold his gaze. 

Bucky remembered being taller than Steve. He’d enjoyed it, how well Steve had fit into the crook of his neck when they hugged or how perfectly suited he was when Bucky slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. Size didn’t stop Bucky from trying, only now he was slinging an arm around Steve’s narrow waist and pressing _his_ face into the crook of _Steve’s_ neck. 

He really had no clue. 

“You really don’t know, do you?” Bucky asked, carefully, licking his dried lips. Steve’s eyes tracked the motion before snapping back up. 

“Know what, Buck?” Steve answered, his voice low. Bucky blinked slowly and licked his lips again. Steve’s eyes dropped again. Huh. 

“How fucking _ridiculous_ you are,” Bucky breathed, grinning lazily when Steve frowned. “I’m onto you, Rogers. This shit you’re pullin’, I’m onto it.” 

Now it was Steve’s turn to stutter. His expression shifted from guilt to fear to carefully blank, and Bucky just licked his lips again. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve answered. Bucky noticed him swallow and stepped a little more into his space. Bucky had to get this shit outta the way; he had to clear the air between them. He could feel how tense Steve was and no doubt he wasn’t much better. If this ended poorly, Bucky would just hide on Natasha’s floor for a week or however long it took Steve to forgive him. Given their track record, a week would be about right. 

He would cross that line then build a motherfucking _wall_ and never break it down. Once. Once would be all it took and Bucky wouldn’t be able to trust himself again around Steve. He’d never stop. Out of all of Bucky’s shit, that was one thing he was certain. 

“You mean you aren’t _intentionally_ walkin’ outta the shower naked, like that’s every day?” Bucky said. A flush dusted up Steve’s cheeks. “You mean you didn’t _intentionally_ not wear a shirt while you grappled me? Didn’t _intentionally_ forget your fuckin’ jockstrap?” 

Steve looked away, his eyes lowered. “Buck, I wasn’t - ” 

“Tryin’ to make me uncomfortable?” Bucky scoffed. “Too fuckin’ late, pal. I’m so uncomfortable it’s painful.” 

Steve flicked his eyes to Bucky; the guilt was palpable. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I just - I know I’m awkward about myself, _still,_ and I just didn’t want you to think any less of me. I thought, I thought if I,” he took a breath. “If I could show _you,_ get you to believe, maybe I could believe myself.” 

Bucky sighed, feeling a smile tug his lips. “Oh Steve, you’re so ridiculous.” 

Steve’s frown deepened. “That’s not exactly - ” 

“What you wanted to hear? Well I’m not done yet,” Bucky said, letting his smile show. Steve relaxed somewhat. “You oughtta know by now how I feel, but you obviously don’t, so now’s a good’a time as any.” He took another step into Steve’s space, now leaving only a few inches between them. Steve didn’t back away. 

“Steve, you’re beautiful,” Bucky said, his voice wavering slightly. Steve’s eyes widened. “You’ve always been, before you got the body to match the heart. So what if no one else sees it? You just tell them to shut the fuck up and keep goin’ like you always do, like you did while I was gone.” Bucky swallowed thickly. “Stark’s a dick, that’s no secret. But he didn’t know you before, an’ he doesn’t really know you now, not yet, but I do. _I_ do; _I_ saw everything beautiful in you and fought an’ begged for others to see it, too. The ones that mattered did. The ones that matter now do, too. Just let that shit go. Your opinion’s the only one that matters.” He paused. 

“And mine, ‘cos I fuckin’ love you.” 

Steve’s eyes widened even _further,_ and that’s when Bucky’s words caught up with him. _Shit._ “Bucky, I - ” 

“Shaddup, Steve,” Bucky sighed and closed his eyes, not wanting to see Steve’s reaction as he spoke. He could feel Steve’s puffs of breath on his face, coming faster and faster, and Bucky wondered if he wasn’t the only one who felt what was between them. “I felt terrible last night, havin’ to watch you walk away all sad. I couldn’t answer you without being too honest, and honestly I think you’re perfect. I love you, Stevie, have for a long time, and you walkin’ around naked was too fuckin’ much. Like, I really think you shorted my brain out.” 

Bucky cracked an eye to peek at Steve and wasn’t surprised to still see such a bewildered expression on the other man’s face. He closed his eye again and offered a sad smile. “I figured you wouldn’t feel the same, so I never said anything. Never planned to, either, until you decided to be an ass and make me crush a perfectly good butter knife - ” 

Bucky felt the breath get knocked out of him as Steve clamped him in a massive bear hug. “Woah, pal, what’re you - ?” 

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve said, his voice muffled by Bucky’s shoulder and shirt. Bucky felt his heart drop - what other reason could Steve have to apologize for, except that he didn’t feel the same way? “I’m so sorry, Buck. If I’d just _known,_ I wouldn’t’ve done…” 

“It’s okay, Stevie,” Bucky said softly, ignoring how weak he sounded. He couldn’t listen to what Steve had to say, why he had to be sorry. Bucky had a good idea what all that meant. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.” 

Steve’s arms tightened around Bucky’s waist, holding him closer. It was torture. “No, Buck, you deserve an explanation.” 

“You already gave me one, pal,” Bucky answered. He swallowed, working his throat to loosen the tightness he felt. He awkwardly patted Steve’s shoulders and attempted to pull away. It was so _nice,_ being held by Steve, but Bucky knew it was artificial. “Let me go, Stevie.” 

Steve stiffened but pulled back. He kept his arms around Bucky, which absolutely wasn’t helping. Bucky wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out before he worked himself free and ran. Maybe one of Barton’s nests were still around. 

“I don’t want to,” Steve said simply, his blue eyes bright and so painful for Bucky to look at. 

Bucky huffed, trying to hide his discomfort, even as he tried to pry Steve’s arms free as gently as possible. “Too bad, punk.” 

Steve pressed his lips together in a thin line and didn’t relent his grip. “You tell me you love me, then expect me to just let you go?” He rolled his eyes and pulled Bucky flush to his chest. _“Bucky.”_

Steve said his name with such exasperation that Bucky’s patience snapped - _again._ “Then either fucking _do something_ about it or let me go.” Bucky pressed against Steve’s arms with more force, his back arching back and away from Steve’s body. “Actually, just _let me go.”_

“No,” was Steve’s simple answer, and Bucky felt like screaming. 

“Goddammit, Steve,” Bucky growled. “Fucking punch me, if you gotta, but stop doing this. It’s not _right.”_

_You’re killin’ me, pal._

Steve began to smile. Fucking asshole. “What’s not right?” 

Bucky finally reached his limit. _“I’m_ going to fucking punch you, you asshole. You know what you’re - ” Bucky stopped struggling for a moment, his chest heaving; the world must’ve been knocked off it’s axis because Bucky would have sworn he was feeling - 

“I feel the same, Buck,” Steve said, his deep voice interrupting all of Bucky’s inner turmoil as he pressed his poorly concealed erection into Bucky’s hip. “And I’d like to show you exactly how _much,_ if you think that’d be alright?” 

Oh yeah, the world must be spinning off into the sun because Bucky was suddenly too warm and his heart was beating like he’d run a marathon. He hadn’t been wrong - that _was_ Steve pressing his gorgeous cock against him; he wasn’t dreaming (dear lord don’t let him be dreaming) and he knew that Steve’s cock really was gorgeous, and wasn’t _that_ a thought? 

“Oh,” Bucky breathed. He stilled completely, his hands still on Steve’s forearms, and just stared at Steve’s smiling face. 

Steve’s grin spread. “‘Oh’, huh? Better than ‘Uh’, I s’pose.” 

Bucky decided to ignore that little jab. So his words failed him - like Steve was really one to talk. “Are you being serious?” 

Steve leaned into Bucky’s space, his hands sliding hot trails under Bucky’s shirt and across his back. “You tell me, Buck.” He pushed his groin against Bucky with much more pressure, and Bucky couldn’t help his hiss. 

“Shit, Stevie,” Bucky gasped. He moved his hands to Steve’s neck and pulled. “You gonna kiss me or what?” 

Steve’s grin spread before he pressed his lips to Bucky’s, slotting their mouths together like they’d been doing it for _years._ It made Bucky’s heart stutter and pound; Steve’s lips felt as soft and full as they looked, and he honestly couldn’t help his moan when he felt Steve’s tongue swipe against his bottom lip. He accepted the invitation it was and sucked on Steve’s tongue. Steve growled, a noise Bucky had never heard from him, before he spun them and pressed Bucky against the edge of the kitchen bar. 

Steve leaned his entire body against Bucky as they kissed, rolling his hips hard enough to make Bucky’s breath stick in his lungs. Steve kicked Bucky’s feet apart and slid his thigh between Bucky’s legs; he pressed hard enough for Bucky to gasp into Steve’s mouth and blink away stars. 

“Steve,” Bucky started when Steve pulled off his lips long enough to mouth down his throat. “You sure ‘bout this? ‘Cos I can’t just be, I can’t - ” 

“Buck.” Steve stopped to meet Bucky’s eyes and Bucky wasn’t above admitting he missed the attention. Might’ve whined a little, too. “You aren’t.” 

It was simple and so _Steve_ that Bucky found himself chasing after his lips for another searing kiss before he really knew what he was doing. It was less frantic, more caressing, but Steve’s thigh was still pressing against Bucky’s dick and he _definitely_ whined when Steve pulled away again. 

“You’re - ” 

Bucky steamrolled right over whatever Steve was gonna say. _“You’re_ ridiculous, you know?” Steve’s mouth closed with an audible click of his teeth that made Bucky grin, despite the flutter in his chest and the painful hardness in his groin. “You’ve been struttin’ around here like you didn’t know. You knew.” 

Steve had the decency to flush. “I didn’t, really, until like ten minutes ago.” 

Bucky barked out a disbelieving laugh that ended in a moan when Steve crowded closer to him. “Well,” Bucky purred. He ran his hands, metal and flesh, under Steve’s shirt until he could press them flat to Steve’s shoulder blades. “What’re ya gonna do about it?” 

Steve growled when Bucky pulled him into another kiss, the sound reverberating in Bucky’s chest as he drug Steve’s bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth. The touches became more frantic when Bucky pulled back to tear his shirt over his head, Steve mimicking him barely a second later. Bucky finally was able to get his palms on every part of Steve’s chest that he could, tracing the hard lines of muscle and toying with both pert nipples until Steve gasped his name. 

He hesitated only once, only briefly, when he felt Steve’s warm fingers on his shoulder, followed by his lips. He knew Steve knew the scars; he’d seen them enough, and Bucky was about as comfortable as he could be with them himself. But he knew they looked terrible and painful, and Steve, _Steve,_ didn’t hesitate. He touched as gently and kissed with an equal hunger as he did the rest of Bucky. It doubled Bucky’s arousal, which Bucky didn’t even think could be _possible,_ until he was arching against Steve and simultaneously grinding against his thigh. He was really fucking close. 

“Steve, I’mma ‘bout to embarrass myself if we don’t move somewhere more horizontal,” Bucky panted, pushing lightly at Steve’s shoulders. Steve pulled back long enough to wrap his arms around Bucky’s waist and haul him up. Bucky had enough sense in his Steve-induced haze to brace against Steve’s neck and shoulders while Steve guided his legs with one hand, still holding Bucky flush with one strong arm. Steve’s new strength was dizzying, and something Bucky thought he’d get used to faster. He could remember a time when he had to carry Steve when he collapsed from an asthma attack. 

Now Steve was lifting Bucky like he wasn’t over two-hundred pounds of muscle and metal without even a hitch in breath. 

What a fucking turn on. 

Bucky took the hint and wrapped his legs tightly around Steve, pressing himself into Steve’s abdomen with a hiss. Steve’s hands moved from his waist to his ass and pressed Bucky even _closer._ It was glorious and terrible because Bucky knew they still needed to get somewhere and _fast,_ but he loved having Steve’s hands everywhere. 

“Hurry, Rogers,” Bucky gasped when Steve took that first step. Gods, the _friction._

“Workin’ on it,” Steve grunted, craning his neck to capture Bucky’s lips again. They separated after Steve’s grip almost slipped. “You’re distracting.” 

Bucky snorted, grinning as Steve started towards his room. Steve intentionally picked the room closest to the kitchen, which Bucky was pissed about but couldn’t blame him for. “Not apologizin’.” 

“Don’t,” Steve said, agreeing with a blinding smile. Bucky started to lean in for another kiss before the sounds of a scuffle and Steve’s gasp surprised him. One minute he was looking down at Steve, and the next he was staring at the ceiling. He blinked, noticing immediately Steve’s warmth was gone and the breath had been knocked out of him. His ass kinda hurt, too. Prematurely. 

“Bucky!” Bucky looked towards Steve’s voice to see him a few feet back, on his knees in the doorway. Bucky was almost halfway to Steve’s bed. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Are you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What the hell happened?” 

Steve’s face flushed pink, but not from arousal. “The bag. I forgot about it; kinda tripped over it.” 

Bucky felt a grin threatening to break his face. “Seriously?” 

“Shut up,” Steve snapped. He began to crawl across the carpet to get to Bucky; Bucky swallowed thickly, looking up at Steve after he braced himself on his arms. “You’re really okay? I sorta tossed you.” 

“Completely,” Bucky answered. “Well, not _completely,_ because we’re both still wearing too much.” 

Steve grinned and pressed his lips to a mark he’d sucked on Bucky’s neck in the kitchen. “The bed’s right there.” 

“Here is fine,” Bucky moaned, slipping his flesh hand under the band of Steve’s track shorts. Steve sighed against his neck as Bucky shamelessly groped and rubbed the swell of Steve’s ass. “You’re still weain’ too much.” 

“So’re you,” Steve said before pulling away and yanking both of Bucky’s shoes off. He tossed them over his shoulder without even a backwards glance at where they landed before kicking his own off to follow. He kissed Bucky hard as he worked down both his sweats and briefs, separating just long enough to toss those away as well. Bucky felt carpet on his ass with Steve looming over him, still in his shorts, eyes roaming every inch of exposed skin. Bucky swallowed nervously. 

“God, Buck,” Steve rasped. The sound went directly to Bucky’s cock, making it twitch. Steve’s eyes dropped to the movement and Bucky got a front row seat to see nearly all of that blue disappear as his pupils dilated. He felt precome dribble down his cock, and he watched Steve watch that, too. Steve met his gaze. “Can I..?” 

All Bucky could manage was a nod, not trusting his voice. Steve visibly swallowed before dipping his head and laving at the tip of Bucky’s cock. Bucky couldn’t stop the full body shudder if he tried. Steve took it as encouragement and sucked the entire head in his mouth; Bucky gasped. 

Steve sucked and licked all the way down Bucky’s shaft, tongue swirling experimentally. Bucky wasn’t sure if Steve had done that before (he certainly hoped not) but everything he did was too good. Bucky was wound too tight and knew he was literal seconds away from fisting Steve’s hair and coming down his throat. It was too much. 

“Steve,” Bucky warned, his hand drifting of its own accord to grab Steve’s hair. Steve leaned into the touch and hummed, startling another moan out of Bucky, but pulled off with a quiet _pop_ and even used a little bit of teeth. Bucky’s head dropped onto the carpet, his fingers still tangled in Steve’s hair. “Shit, Stevie - you're gonna kill me.” 

Steve just grinned, his lips red and glossy from sucking Bucky’s cock. Bucky tugged until their lips met, and licked into Steve’s mouth until he couldn’t taste himself anymore. God, he was on fire. Every piece of skin burned in the wake of Steve’s touch, and Bucky just couldn't _stand it._

“Steve,” he moaned, knowing exactly how desperate he sounded and not giving a flying fuck about it. He nibbled Steve’s lips, not wanting to separate too far. “You got lube or somethin’ handy?” 

Steve paused for a moment before kissing Bucky hard and moving over him. Steve’s night stand was only a few feet behind Bucky, and in retrospect, they really were only a second away from climbing on the bed. But that second sounded too long to Bucky, and with Steve rummaging around in his drawer, Bucky had his eyes on the prize. 

Steve’s tented shorts were inches from his face, his cock bobbing with each movement. The front of the grey fabric was damp with precome and heady with arousal. Bucky grinned and wrapped his lips over the darkened fabric. 

_“Shit!_ Bucky,” Steve gasped. Bucky breathed hot air when Steve’s hips bucked forward, seeking Bucky’s mouth. He obliged and sucked; Steve moaned when Bucky worked his metal hand up the leg of the shorts, grazing his balls, before grabbing the waistband and finally freeing Steve’s cock. Bucky got in one good, long suck, finally getting a hard-won taste of Steve, before he was being pushed away. 

Bucky made a desperate noise in the back of his throat before Steve was kissing him breathless. 

“Won’t last, you doin’ that,” he mumbled against Bucky’s lips. Bucky grinned and tugged where he still held a firm grip on Steve’s shorts. 

“So? We got all the time in the world,” Bucky promised. He surged up to Steve’s lips again. “You’ll just face fuck me later.” 

Steve went entirely rigid and Bucky felt his cock twitch against the band of his shorts. “What?” He sounded strangled. “You want me to, to - ” 

“You bet, Stevie,” Bucky smiled, kissing him sweetly. “But right now I need somethin’ else.” 

Steve kissed him tenderly, his breathing ragged; he dropped the lube he found on Bucky’s chest. “I can do that.” 

“Then get the fuck outta _these.”_ Bucky pulled until Steve leaned back and shucked his shorts down. Bucky poured a good amount of lube onto his flesh hand and immediately set to work on getting Steve ready. Steve gasped when Bucky’s hand, chilled from the lube, grasped his length and began lazy strokes. 

“‘M ready,” Steve panted, grabbing the lube bottle. Bucky shook his head and grabbed Steve’s hip. “Bucky?” 

“Me too, ready too,” Bucky answered. “Been ready forever, Stevie.” 

Steve, because he wouldn’t be Steve if he didn’t, searched his face. “You sure?” 

Bucky just nodded. Steve watched him for a moment more before leaning further over and sliding his hands under Bucky’s hips. He paused to meet Bucky’s lips in the sweetest kiss by far, making Bucky’s heart soar and his head spin. God, how was he so lucky? 

Steve kissed him as he slid in, inch by inch, and Bucky appreciated the distraction. The pain was nothing - Bucky had been through much, much worse - but it was different. Filling. He’d liberally lubed Steve up and was glad he did. Steve was thick, and Bucky gasped into his mouth when he finally bottomed out. Bucky never dreamed he’d get a chance, get _any_ chance to be as close as he was to Steve, but there he was. The carpet burn would so be worth it. 

“Move,” he gasped, bucking his hips up. Steve pressed a kiss below his jaw and did, slowly dragging out and pushing back in. Bucky sighed contently, wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders and squeezing Steve’s hips with his thighs. It felt so good, feeling the press of Steve’s skin against his, Steve’s sweat dripping down his brow. Bucky chased the drops with his lips. Suddenly, it wasn’t enough. 

“Hard, Steve. _Harder.”_

Steve obliged. He gripped Bucky’s hips tightly, almost painfully, and set a brutal pace. Bucky fumbled until he got a hand on his dick and pumped in time with Steve. He was so close, and a subtle shift in angle had Steve hitting his prostrate and Bucky screamed out, screamed Steve’s name. 

_“Yes,_ Steve! Shit, I’m close. Again, Steve, _please.”_ Bucky knew he was babbling, shifting between moans and _‘Steve!’_ like a prayer. Steve grunted and panted along with him, breathing Bucky’s name between sloppy kisses. 

Bucky was so close, could feel the swell of heat become too much and knew Steve was too. The pattern turned frantic but Bucky didn’t care, pumping his cock and thrusting to meet Steve. He wasn’t about to give up the chase, could feel it - 

“Bucky.” 

Bucky opened his eyes and met Steve’s, right _there,_ and offered a smile. 

“I love you.” 

That was all it took. Bucky was spilling over his hand and crying Steve’s name again, his vision literally whiting out. He came hard, and for a perfect moment he knew nothing but Steve. Steve was right there with him, and Bucky could feel the throb of Steve still buried in him. It was perfect. He didn’t want to move. 

Steve sprawled on top of him, catching his breath. Bucky ran a hand through his sweaty hair, grinning lazily when the short blond strands stood at end. He felt a warmth settle in his chest, something he had come to notice was love for the man atop him. Steve grunted and pushed himself up. 

“Hey,” he said, grin dopey. 

“Hey, yourself,” Bucky answered. He was pretty sure his expression wasn’t too far from Steve’s. “You come here often?” 

“Hopin’ to,” Steve quipped, making Bucky chuckle. 

“You meant it, then,” Bucky clarified, because he didn’t want to believe otherwise. Steve’s expression softened. 

“Of course, Buck,” he murmured, pushing Bucky’s hair back from his forehead. “I’m not as great with words as you are, but yes. I love you.” 

Bucky felt that warmth in his chest spread tenfold. “I love you too, Stevie.” 

Steve’s smile grew even dopier, and wasn’t _that_ a feat, but Bucky just grinned back and kissed him. They laid there, kissing lazily, until their sweat and mingled come dried and Steve slipped from Bucky. It drew a sad sigh from him, but made Steve chuckle. 

“Got all the time in the world, remember?” Steve offered. Bucky just shrugged. 

“Doesn’t mean I want now to be over.” 

Steve laughed again. “Well, that shower’s probably big enough for both of us…” 

Bucky pushed Steve off and was standing with a hand out to Steve before he even finished his sentence. Steve shook his head but took Bucky’s hand, wrapping his arm around Bucky after he stood. Bucky lead the way to the bathroom in the hallway, pausing to remind Steve about the gym bag. 

“You know,” Steve said while he watched Bucky start the shower tap. “I was tryin’ to see if I could get a rise outta you.” 

“Whatcha talkin’ ‘bout, Rogers?” Bucky asked, holding his fingers under the water to check the temperature. 

“Earlier, in the kitchen,” Steve felt his grin spread when Bucky froze. “And on the mats. What I said earlier was true, but it didn’t hurt that I was hoping you might look at me a little different.” 

Bucky turned and glared at Steve, his expression clearly over it. “I’ve been in love with you my whole life - _I know you,_ you fuckin’ punk.” Bucky pointed a metal finger at Steve. “I fuckin’ _knew it.”_

“News to me.” 

“No it’s not,” Bucky snapped. “You knew what you were doing.” 

Steve just shrugged, his grin turning sly. “Yeah, maybe.” 

Bucky pulled Steve into the shower with maybe a _little_ too much force, but Steve just laughed. Fucking ridiculous. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! I might revisit (got an idea or two) later, but please PLEASE let me know what you thought, especially the smut. Follow me on tumblr zombified419 if you like, and thanks for reading. :)


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